


Salty Tales for the Bored

by Artemissme



Series: Salty Tales for the Bored [1]
Category: LGBTQIA+ - Fandom, pirates - Fandom
Genre: A little angst, DnD themes, Elves, F/F, Gen, Half-breeds, LGBTQIA+ friendly, M/M, Multi, Other, Pirate life, Shenanigans and adventures, drama and sass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemissme/pseuds/Artemissme
Summary: A collection of adventures as told by the Captain to their crew during long voyages at sea. You, dear reader, are a part of that crew, so sit still and shut up, or get back to work.





	Salty Tales for the Bored

               It didn’t take long before we were completely surrounded. My crew and I had searched tirelessly for many days to find an incredibly rare ingredient. Located in the marshes of Cradyett, it was not a place to get lost or fall asleep in. The indigenous wildlife had gone mad with the lingering miasma. A deep violet gloom that, when inhaled, turns you into a perpetually hangrier version of your former self. A slew of ravenous swampland critters had us corralled to a natural rock-walled enclave.

               It was the shittiest 72 hours we had ever endured. Well, at that time it was. Fortunately, my crew and I were equipped to the teeth to take on this venture. We had masks that filtered out the miasma, suits that protected bare flesh from crawling parasites, and sharp weapons to deal with the rest. We were prepared to negotiate aggressively.

               When suddenly the very ground beneath our feet began to swallow us whole. Without so much as a formal complaint to the manager, we were flushed down a pit of quicksand. I thought we were finished for good, but I’ve been wrong before. Before I knew it, my feet hit solid ground. My limbs were free to move as well, as though I hadn’t been sinking into quicksand just then. We’d landed in some kind of hall of stone.

               Taking a moment to look around, I see my motley crew in much the same state as I. Confused but bloody grateful to be alive. After taking stock I led the way through the stonework tunnels we found ourselves in. It wasn’t on any map, but the bit of poetry that led us here to find said ingredient finally made sense:

              

_When to the wall you find your back_

_Suddenly the land will slack_

_It is in the heart of the maze_

_The center holds a plant ablaze_

**_*keep left_ **

As the Captain, that made me the one to figure it out. So, at every juncture I take a left. Left. Left. And left again. A few more lefts I can see the end. Well, an end. The glow of the Fierian Flower is peaking just over this very solid wall. The corridor was a dead end.

               My crew looks to me for the next move. The poem, of course, made no mention of this wall. At least I didn’t think so. All it had scrawled on the bottom of the page was “Keep Left”. So, I look on the left side of the wall. It is smooth and without note. However, upon closer inspection, I spot a few key creases in the stonework.

               My wicked grin is my way of telling the crew that I’ve found something. They follow my lead. I command them to push down the wall at that specific spot. And the wall fell at the pieces like freshly cut bread. A solid stone slab slammed on the ground before us with a slap. The muck it landed in began to sizzle at the fringes. That muck, I soon realized, was not your average mud pie in a maze under a miasma plagued swamp. It was dissolving the stone, but slow enough to give us time to cross.

               I was the first to voyage over the decomposing bridge. Taking big strides and nearly leaping to the next patch of solid, non-liquifying rock. I bade my comrades follow, and before long my crew had joined me on the other side. Though we were all showing signs of exhaustion, we pressed on.

               The goal was in sight. But only a fool would expect the reward as tantalizingly close as this with no traps to thwart their grubby hands. It appeared nothing now stood between us and the fabled Fierian Flower. The flickering flames of their translucent petals cast eerie shadows everywhere. I suspected the trap, if any, would be on the floor.

               My crew grew anxious, they had not slept in three days. This lull in our momentum was taking a higher toll than the last five hours had. I had to think fast. But I too lacked sleep. Exhaustion chose this time to have my wits fail.

Bless my crew. One of our older members- Coglan- posed a question, “Cap’n’?” he asks. The need for sleep practically screaming from his eyes. He has my immediate, if not, mutually fatigued, attention, “Are we in any danger currently?”

I look around to find the answer. Compared to the swamp above our heads, we were in a bit of a paradise. If paradise had no windows, ocean view or room service. Most notably, no miasma made it down here. No monsters who hungered for our delectable hides. And, as far as my limited perception could tell, no mechanical gears clicking into place to spell our doom. Yet.

               “To the best of my knowledge… no.” I smile at him exhausted and grateful. He wanted to rest. The others did too. So, removing my mask, I nodded at them, “Alright crew,” I addressed everyone, “You’ve more than earned your forty winks. Stay close, we camp here. I’ll take first watch.”

               The lot agreed to a schedule so everyone could take a turn at watch duty. A solid crew indeed. We had each other’s backs through and through. A testament to why not a single one of the crew had died on this or any previous journey.

               My watch came and went without so much as a signed invitation from the high queen herself. All was well as we restored our strength and wits. Even if it was just a few hours.

               And, although it was tempting, I did not test the foundation of the pedestal that held the Fierian Flower. But I did contemplate its existence. Fire, much like humans, required air to live. I wondered how this underground possessed so much fresh air to keep the fires burning, let alone us breathing, when topside suffers the miasmic fog.

               My dreams were uneasy as I thought of every way to retrieve the flower. All attempts ended in _painful agonizing failure._ Though my dreams were dreary, my heart held fast to hope. I knew we would figure out another way. We always did.

               The successful retrieval of this rare flower would give a little village in El Vostre a cure for the plague. Then it would avoid the final steps of quarantine. But we had to be fast. It took us three days to find the blasted plant, likely a whole one to rest. The sooner we get the flower, the sooner we could return to El Vostre and save them. But I also needed to consider my crew. We pushed hard, because we knew it would be dangerous, and these fine few volunteered. They were strong, versatile, and their hearts were good. Which was good seeing as this was a job we weren’t going to get paid for.

               One of our own had family who died from the plague earlier in the year, and still they volunteered. If it came down to it, I would give my life for each and every one of them. Best family anyone could be lucky enough to work with.

               Shaking my head free of such sentimental thoughts, I gather my crew. I told them what I thought would happen, and they concurred. A few even had ideas to solve our current problem. One asked how are we to cart a flaming flower on a wooden vessel across a bit of ocean. And, prior to that, a miasmic swamp.

               All good points. But we were clever and creative, I trusted we would figure it out as we go. We took time- though not a lot- to observe the pedestal to which the Fierian Flower was possibly potted. Some runes were carved into the surrounding stone and floor. We couldn’t make sense of them, until Mox began cackling with wicked glee. It was the sound of someone who just remember something they were trying to think of days earlier.

               “Cap’n’…” They said, happiness stretching the edges of their weary face, “I studied this language when I was in school. It’s been a while, but I can still make out some of the letters. The others, I suspect, should fall into place as I go.” And with that they began translating. Some of the crew had pen and paper to give and it wouldn’t be long before Mox was complete.

               “Well done,” I beamed, pride shining brighter than any sun. The paper they gave me had two possible solutions.

 

               _TURN RIGHT THREE CLICKS STOP_

_L EFT AND FREE THE POT._

              

The second translation was identical to the first, only it had ‘Lift’ instead of ‘Left’. Nothing mentioned secret floor plates of death, so I stepped confidently onto the surrounding stone. The pedestal, upon further scrutiny, has a slidable stone ring around the flower. I turned it to the right. The first click startled all of us. But I continued pushing the ring. A second click followed. Then a third. Moment of truth. Do I turn it backwards to the left, or lift the pot holding the plant?

               I saw the rim around the pot free of obstacles now. If I wanted to, I could simply reach in and lift. As the ring had turned it widened to the width it was at now.

               I made the executive decision to ‘Lift’. The pot came up freely. Nothing obnoxiously dangerous followed in the suspenseful minutes after. Plant in hand, pot and all, we looked for an exit with the desperation of a child who knew they were going to be in trouble.

               To our seeded panic, no exit could be found. However, before the paranoia took over, I spotted more of the same runes on the wall. Without hesitating, I asked our resident translator to see what they could make of it.

               If the instructions we’ve gathered before had any bearing on this new bit on the wall, then, an educated guess would suggest not only would it be frustratingly vague, but also somehow incredibly helpful.

               “Oh, it just says,” Mox paused thinking. They moved to stand on a square slab of stone. “Stand here?”

               Not a moment later, a terrifying series of clicks. There were many turning gears, all unseen, and too many to count. The entire room was fill with the sound. And the motion shook the very foundation. It almost felt as though the very earth was moving by these gears.

               When the shaking and clicking ceased, a door opened in front of us. With stairs leading up and out. A familiar purple vapor began to creep in at the top.

               The miasma. “Masks on!” I shouted, putting my own on with one hand. Now for the fun part: Going back.

               We blazed up the stairs, weapons at the ready to deal with any mad creatures that got in our way. None we encountered ever stayed long. The flower terrified them. They gaped and screeched and ran as if their life depended on it.

               The flower clearly meant something different to them. We had little time to dwell on that. Making our way valiantly back to the ship, we slid to a sudden stop. My ship had been destroyed while we were away. I had good folk posted on it to keep it safe, and the were nowhere to be found.

               While some of the crew investigated the ship, I tried to make sense of the scene. This alcove was exposed. And muddy. There were plenty of tracks that had not been there when we arrived. By my calculations they were no more than a day old. This told me many things. The state of the tracks spoke to me like a story unfolding. There had been scuffle. Likely an ambush. The crew I’d left behind were outnumbered, and, after putting up a decent fight, were captured. The crew I knew to be human… their captors had three-clawed toes. There wasn’t enough blood to suggest anyone died here. On either side. Of what remained of the ship… they ransacked it. Many things had been looted, but it was a sloppy job. The truly valuable stuff in lockers remained. Were they looking for something in particular? Like the Fierian Flower? Nothing is ever simple. The people of El Vostre needed this flower. And, clearly, these creatures felt they needed it just as bad.

               I could leave my remaining crew to perish or worse at the hands of whomever took them and rush the flower back to El Vostre. That would be the wisest option as time was not on our side. But I would rather save my crew than do a good job. I pondered if I could have the best of both worlds and how to possibly achieve that.  

               It dawned on me that my crew was awaiting orders. They had watched as I pieced together the clues left behind. While I said nothing, they silently stood by, trusting whatever plan I would come up with. But I knew not who- or what- took the crew, and the nearest port was a day’s walk away. Half a day if we booked it. But that still left a means of sailing back to El Vostre.

               I kept very few secrets from my crew. We trusted each other. To hell and back. So, I told them the plan. If it worked, everyone would be happy, and live to tell this tale like the bards of old. Or at least like I do when we’re on long voyages and need entertainment.

               Splitting my crew into two groups, one to return the flower and one to go to hell and get back our comrades. I gave each team careful instructions. The team taking the flower back would split again as they got to the nearest port. A smaller portion could then take the flower in secret to El Vostre. The remaining crew would locate the shop bearing the symbol of the phoenix. There they would call in a favor and get us another means of travel. Four remained with me, we would bring back our crew.

               Night fell as we followed the trail left by those with the three-clawed toes. There was nary a sound, and the miasma was less potent towards the water’s edge. The trail was mercifully easy to follow. When we came to a point of no particular significance, the human foot prints smeared. As though the captors started to drag the humans, which made me wonder if they knocked them unconscious. Then the prints ceased, washed away by the water? The tide didn’t seem like it could reach this far in. Some one must have used magic to pull the water, washing the tracks away.

               Using my senses, I divine any leads. Something had to be around here. My ears told me there was a breeze from the sea. It brought with it the smell of salt… and citrus? I followed my nose and my eyes did the rest.

               My ship had lemons- among other things- and now I was finding bits of rind littered on the ground. As we walked further from the shore, grass grew, and wet mud became more fertile dirt. The trial of rinds stopped near a hilly area surrounded by trees.

               Not very convincingly hidden by spare leaves and grass strapped to wooden sticks was a secret door. Guess we’re going underground again, I sighed, and lifted the door. The four went in first and I closed the door behind us.

               The soft ground beneath our feet was packed earth. Sound did not travel well through this tight tunnel. The earthen walls and conveniently low ceiling absorbed it all like a sponge. It all looked like it was dug by hand. For a creature far smaller than a human. We had to crawl through on our bellies.

               A sense of unease permeated through our clothes and directly into our flesh like a celebrity after party. It was something none of us had the energy for. But our comrades were worth it. Once we rescued them, we would tell them exactly what we went suffered to save them. On multiple occasions.

We persisted in silence, making our way through the tunnel as lizards do. I imagine this plan may be one of my better ones if it worked. But it also had the potential to go horribly wrong. Coming in this tunnel to where my crew _might_ be located was particularly risky. Anything could go wrong.

               Finally, solid ground, and a more reasonable ceiling, with solid stone walls, appeared. We were able to stand and stretch. Never thought I’d be grateful for a better structured dungeon. The chill of the stone even complimented our already damp and muddied attire.

               The tunnel we had crawled out of was obviously and escape route, but for a creature of smaller stature than a human. There were only four of us, so we needed to be smart about how we rescued our comrades. I had faith we could take on a small force. A growing echo of sounds gave us direction.

               We came to another crumbled wall, much like the one we crawled out of. This one opened into a great hall. The hall was packed with small humanoid lizards. Kobolds. They worked well in great numbers. Which they very much had. Though they tended to not be very clever, their tenacity and teamwork more than made up for any shortcomings. The lot of them could, and likely would, tear us all apart.

               This room was most likely the mess hall. Food strewed the floor and tables and kobolds alike. The smell was intense, I nearly put my mask back on. There was no miasma down here, just like with the Maze. I took a wild guess that the Kobolds were immune to it.  

               I could see my crewmates bound to a large pole and set above a fire pit that had not been lit yet. What fortunate timing, I thought. Most of my captured crew’s gear and clothes were displayed on a nearby table as if they were for sale. Well, shit, I thought. None of us speak Kobold. Which Mox has since told me is Draconic.

                Mox did not study Draconic in school. Understandable. We would have to come up with another plan. That’s when Freds pointed to my jacket. The back- which, miraculously, was clear of mud- had emblazoned on it the image of Tiamat. The dragon goddess of many-heads with variety of colors and types. Kobolds worshipped her loyally to this day. This may be our ticket. But could I pull it off being as filthy as I am? I looked at the kobolds who were- some of them anyway- literally rolling around in filth. Eh, maybe I’ll be fine.

               My plan was to extend diplomacy. Though I was heavily relying on my ability to communicate with creatures that may not even speak my language. One could say it hinged on it. Freds is often my plan B. As our mage he had the ability to manipulate the elements. Well, at that time it was just fire. But fire usually did the trick.

               I bade the four individuals who came with me to wait. I would take Freds with me to appear as a servant. Or someone of my employ. It mattered not the role was a silent one. Assuming they wouldn’t kill us outright, but that’s what Freds was for: back up. The others, Coglan and Mox, were to find another way out. We would not make it through the way we came in.

               Taking the initiative, I strode proudly into the room like I had business being here. I sort of did. So that bit would help this be more convincing.

               Kobolds have a governing ruler. A regal queen just as Tiamat herself, only fewer heads, sat above the others near the fire pit. Which still had not bee lit.

               Silence fell upon the room, as all eyes fixed on us. The jacket seemed to be working. They were not outright killing us. It was still early. Perhaps they’ll change their minds. I approached the queen and bowed my head a bit in respect.

               She inclined her head in return. Step one: arguably the most difficult, was complete. Now I just had to use the right words, and, maybe, by shear dumb luck, it would work. No pressure…

               “I sent a messenger. It seems he did not make it.” I said. I held I eye contact with the queen. Pointedly ignoring my crew so as not to give us away.

               The queen, without missing a beat, said, “I trust you warned him if the miasma.” The queen was sassy, I see. In another world I would have liked being her friend.

               “You know, I did. The fool had one job,” I returned her tone with a jest. But my demeanor changed more serious to get to the point, “It was not easy even for me to get here myself. Your territory is impressively fortified. I lost some good men to warn you,” The silence that hung in the air told me I had their attention.

               “Our high priestess is going to pass soon. She has chosen her heir, but her heir hasn’t chosen a student,” words fell from my tongue as though I knew what I was talking about. I only hope it made sense, and that they would allow us to live and eventually leave together.

               “After reviewing our records, your name came up. I came here to tell you, your highness, have been selected to be considered for that role.” I sounded like the hawkers in a city square trying to sell something useless for far more than it was worth, “Would you accept this honorable position?”

               After she said nothing I added, “You’ll be working more closely with an arch mage who would teach you all that can and has been learned of arcana and magic.” I noticed her interest, but she kept it under control. I could tell she was still making up her mind about trusting me. “You would also be considered for promotion if your skills show promise.”

               She looked me up and down. Possibly sensing for ulterior motives, “Where would I go to accept such a position? And what of my people here?”

               My connections once included someone in the cult of Tiamat. I killed him for threatening the safety of my crew, and attempted betrayal. He was the previous owner of this very fine jacket. I believe he was from the West… what city though, I had already forgotten in the moment. “Süda, in the West. And, if you wish to bring your people, we will make accommodations for them. I can pay for your way there.”

               That was a hefty promise. Gods, I hope I could deliver. No one was lighting the fire pit yet. I had been making a great distraction at least. The queen considered her options, “We have another matter most troubling,” her attention turned to my crew, “These filthy humans, no offense,” I feigned no offense. Though, to be honest, was a bit offended. “Stole a flower we were charged to protect.”

               “I am sorry to hear that. Was that the legendary flower-”

               “Yessss.”

               “In the maze?”

               “Indeed,” Her gaze narrowed.

               “Fate has smiled upon you, queen, twice this day.” I said with an air of confidence and relief.

               “What do you mean?” she asked skeptically.

               “There is a flower similar to yours where I am from. And, after hearing your answer, I would grant you this gift.” From my pocket I pulled the seeds of the Fierian flower.

               A collection of murmurs and gasps ripple throughout the room. I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. I tried to quell the anxiety of possibly having let my true identity slip, but stayed in character regardless.

               The queen smiled, holding the attention of the room now. Her word was law. If I failed certainly their feast would be larger. “Thank you-?” She paused. I had not given her a name.

               “You may call me Adra if you like,” I had a list of aliases I kept handy with all the contacts who know me by what name. I would have to add this one to Adra’s contacts. You know, if we got out alive and all that.

               “Adra… thank you for your offer,” She didn’t specify which, “I accept on the condition that you pay for my people’s passage.”

               “Done,” I said.

               “And thank you for the seeds. But the flower was why we remained. We do not wish to remain.”

               “As you wish.”

               “How long do we have to prepare?” She asked, this time, with less control of her emotions. She was genuinely happy.

               “A few hours, your highness. May I ask a favor of you?” She had begun shouting in Draconic once I gave her a timeframe. She stopped midsentence. “What do you plan to with those miscreants?” I motion to my crew. They had been silent this whole time, waiting for me to get on with it and rescue them.

               “Hmm… we were going to eat them,” she hissed the words, but it was forced. If it wasn’t for them, at least by extension, the kobolds would not be free of their duty.

               “Seeing as I lost some good men getting here, I could use some more hired help. I’ll gladly run them ragged for you, if you’ll allow. They could also carry anything else you want to bring with you.” I’d hoped my tone wasn’t too much or too desperate. But this was the whole reason I was here.

               The queen hesitated again, considering her options. I could see how little she cared for their fates, “fine.” Then she barked some more orders in Draconic. They cut my crew from the pole they were tied to. And tossed their clothes at their feet. Not so much their gear though. I’ll get them new ones… once I pay for the tribe of kobolds ferry to Süda. Shouldn’t be too bad, I thought, kidding myself.

               My crew was returned to me, alive, and not too roughed up. They controlled their gratitude, and their panic. Clearly, they were ready to leave. So was literally everybody else.

               The kobolds gathered their belongings, and we left several hours later. We took a different exit; one more accommodating to humans. At the door though, were the remaining two of my crew. They saluted our return and were startled by the entire kobold tribe I had brought with me. Fortunately, they recovered hastily.

               Mox greeted, “Captain,” and refrained from sounding confused.

               “Report, Stoodly, has the ship returned?” Stoodly was code. It meant I was using an alias, don’t fuck up the ruse.

               “Sir! Yes, Captain. It docked not five minutes ago.” Mox stood at attention, even added a salute.

               “Excellent, we will be granting them passage to the next port. From there, we’ll pay their fare to Süda.”

               “Aye, Very good, Captain. I’ll take ye to the ship.” Mox led the way, and the lot of us followed.

               Our journey to the nearest port was eventful to say the least. My crew mostly accounted for, the kobolds now considered us allies. My favors that I’d called in thankfully paid for their journey in addition to getting a ship. Cradyett was a strange place, I could never understand the passage of time there. In any case I was glad to be leaving it.

               We sailed to El Vostre as though the hounds of hell were at our heels. Getting there before the last step of quarantine is executed was paramount. I prayed- and I’m not a religious person- that we would make it there it there to find El Vostre still in one piece. With my unaccounted crew just as successful as we were.

               El Vostre port was insight by the morn. I expected to see smoke pillars that were telling of our tardiness and failure. But, instead, I saw the quarantine still in effect. This could mean two things: The plague had killed everyone, or that the annihilation was about to begin.

               Luckily, it was neither of those. At the dock my crew stood and proudly cut the quarantine line. They jumped and hollered at the sight of us. A breath I’d not known I was holding let itself out. We did it.  

               My crew was reunited. El Vostre was cured of their plague. And we had more fun, adventure, and work that awaited us. I made a mental note to never do another freebie. But the drinking party we would have after would likely erase any recent mental notes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Captain-y things do. Back to work, you loafers!  


End file.
